


Kintsugi

by wildimaginingsofhalfbakedideas



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildimaginingsofhalfbakedideas/pseuds/wildimaginingsofhalfbakedideas
Summary: The art of repairing broken things with gold





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that came to me and begged to be written

Lex sat alone in his office, staring at a half empty glass of brandy. He swirled the liquid lazily, watching it become a small vortex and then settle again when he stilled his hand. If only his life were so easy to control.

Instead, it seemed like no matter how hard he tried to escape his father's influence, Lionel just pulled the leash tighter around his neck until he couldn't do anything but submit, until he could barely breathe. It was infuriating and humiliating in equal measure.

He had thought that at least in exile here in Smallville, as much as he had loathed the idea at first, he would be free from his father's grasp. Well, not free, but at least less tightly controlled. Out of sight out of mind. Yet Lionel still made sure to involve himself in every aspect of his life. Now he'd gone so far as to shut down the plant to force Lex back to Metropolis. Lex was determined not to let his father win this time; he just had no idea how.

In some way, over the past several months Smallville had become more like home to him than the city he grew up in. Sure, everyone here seem to hate him to some degree, but there was something about the strange little town that made him want to stay. Or maybe it was someone.

Lex repressed a groan as he thought about the golden boy with the dark hair and shy, hazel eyes. Clark Kent. That boy had plagued him ever since their first encounter on the riverbank, fueling both his curiosity and his dreams. He tried hard to clamp down on his attraction to the person who had saved his life, reminding himself that Clark was still so young, in more than just age. There was an innocence in him that needed to be protected. An innocence and pure goodness that sparked Lex's own desire to break from his father's controlling, evil ways and become his own man. Clark inspired him, just by being who he was. 

Lex had never had a true friend, had never had the luxury. But Clark had become a constant in his life, a pillar of friendship and a voice of reason every time Lex thought of doing something only his father would approve of. Sure, that voice mostly existed in his head, but it had saved him almost as often as Clark himself had saved him from the many dangers he'd faced since coming to Smallville. 

That, of course, brought up a whole new set of thorny issues. How did Clark always show up just when he needed him? He knew Clark held secrets, perhaps even bigger secrets than he himself possessed, and sometimes he was even okay with not knowing, if by not pushing for answers he could keep Clark close. It was a dangerous game they were playing, a game whose rules Lex didn’t know and for once, he wasn’t sure he would win.

Lex took a sip of his drink, relishing in the burn as it slid down his throat. He wasn’t drunk. He had thought about drinking himself into oblivion, but for some reason, the thought didn’t seem all that appealing. So, instead, he sat in his office at one o’clock in the morning, nursing a singular glass of brandy. Moonlight filtered oddly through the stained glass window behind him, refracting in red, purple, and white shapes on the dark floor. He watched the play of light on the ground, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

He was just starting to reconsider his idea about drinking himself comatose when a familiar shadow interrupted the moonlight’s dance on the floor where Lex had been intently staring. He looked up. Clark Kent. Of course. Who else would show up at this hour, just when he’d been thinking about him? Sometimes it almost felt like he could call Clark to him with just a thought. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful gift?

“Clark,” Lex said easily, as though it were perfectly normal for his friend to visit him in the middle of the night. On a Wednesday. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I...I couldn’t sleep,” Clark admitted. He looked down, biting his lip as he studied his boots. Lex really should not find Clark’s shyness so endearing. He really shouldn’t.

“So you came here? I didn’t hear your truck pull up.”

“No, I...I sort of ran?” He said it as a question, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He didn’t look like he’d just run the twelve miles that lay between the Kent farm and the Luthor mansion (no, Lex hadn’t measured the distance, really, he hadn’t). His hair looked a little windswept, but he wasn’t out of breath and there was no hint of sweat on his clothes or skin.

“You sort of ran? You sound unsure about that,” Lex joked, aiming to ease the tension in Clark’s body. He looked like a startled deer, ready to bolt at any sign of danger.

Clark huffed a laugh at Lex’s teasing. “I just wasn’t sure how you’d react to that.”

“To knowing you ran twelve miles without breaking a sweat? I have to say I’m impressed.” For some reason Lex felt like they were on the precipice of something, but he had no idea what lay at the bottom if they were to fall.

Clark finally met Lex’s eyes. “I mean to knowing that I can run twelve miles without breaking a sweat...in ten seconds.” Lex’s eyes widened. Was he saying…?

“I can usually run it faster, but I was kinda nervous, so I took my time, trying to psych myself up.” A self-deprecating smile.

“And you managed to psych yourself up in ten seconds?”

“Well, no. I may have stood outside the door to your study for a few minutes, trying to decide if I was going to run back home, throw up, or come inside.”

“Well, I’m glad you went with option number three.” They were leaning over the edge of the precipice now. Lex couldn’t look away from Clark’s eyes.

“You were right, Lex. About everything. About me. You hit me with your car that day. I - I’m not...human.” Clark’s eyes turned downward again as he voiced the last part of his confession. There was fear in the set of his shoulders. Fear of rejection, fear of Lex’s reaction, fear of the unknown. It made Lex’s heart ache. They had fallen off the precipice and it was up to Lex to make sure they didn’t both shatter at the bottom.

“Thank you for telling me this, Clark. For trusting me.”

Clark looked up, surprised. “You’re not...freaked out? You don’t...hate me?”

Lex hadn’t known that his heart was capable of breaking into so many pieces. Is that what Clark constantly feared, why he lied to everyone? He was afraid of so much more than rejection. He was afraid of being labeled a freak, ostracised from society, afraid of the revulsion in people’s eyes if they knew an alien lived among them. Yet he came to Lex, his heart in his hands, and offered the tender, fragile thing like an ancient sacrifice to a god long forgotten. 

Lex stood up and walked over to where Clark was standing, studiously avoiding Lex’s eyes. He looked ready for a blow. Lex gently cupped Clark’s jaw and encouraged him to lift his head until Lex could see into his eyes.

“I don’t hate you, Clark,” he promised softly. “Just the opposite, in fact.”

Clark’s smile could light the world, could outshine the sun. Lex was dazzled by its brilliance for a moment, lost in the beauty that was this alien from another planet.

When Clark kissed him, Lex felt his heart heal itself, the wounds sealed with gold as Clark’s warmth poured into him like a prayer. Lex had always been an atheist, but tonight he felt that there were two gods in this church, and together they healed each other’s wounds golden.


End file.
